


Just Another Day

by priscilladm



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Canon - Anime, Canon - Manga, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, One Shot, Young Royai
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:13:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25427482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/priscilladm/pseuds/priscilladm
Summary: Riza told herself that her birthday would always be just another day. She had gone years without acknowledging it, especially after being hardened by the military--but the box on her desk reminded her that there was someone else still thinking of her.
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Comments: 11
Kudos: 68





	Just Another Day

Riza didn’t like celebrating her birthday.

It wasn’t that she hated _all_ birthdays. She was always happy to celebrate another year of someone else’s life. In fact, she loved to celebrate the birthdays of the Elric brothers. The years were hard on them, and they deserved some semblance of happiness and childhood. She didn’t know Black Hayate’s birthday given that he was a stray, but the day she took him home was a date she kept marked on her calendar every year. He always received extra treats and affection, because he brought so much joy to anyone he encountered.

As for her birthday, in her mind, she didn’t deserve to celebrate another year of her life when so much of it was spent taking the lives of others. Carrying the burden of the Ishvalan massacre on her shoulders pained her. None of the people she killed would live to see another birthday, or to celebrate someone else’s. And before the war, she didn’t celebrate the anniversary of her arrival into the world either. With the exception of a few years, no one else in her life acknowledged it, so she didn’t think she should either.

Today would just be another unremarkable Tuesday.

She stood in front of the mirror, examining herself in her military regalia to ensure it looked neat and appropriate for a day of work. She slipped her two guns into their holsters, on each side of her waist. Then, she took her chest-length hair and bunched it up neatly before picking up the hair clip on her belt loop and securing it on the back of her head. She pulled on her boots and began walking towards the door.

“Alright boy,” she gently said to Hayate as she prepared to open the door. “Mommy is going to work now.”

His tail stopped wagging and it thumped as it made contact with the floor when he sat. He did this every morning: he’d look at her sadly and she’d kneel down to give him a gentle hug. This morning was no different, and in fact, she held him closer than usual. He barked happily, seemingly content with her warmth, and walked away from the door as she closed it behind her and locked it.

Her walk into Central Headquarters was leisurely. The morning air was crisp and the sun began to peek out from the horizon. Most people didn’t feel secure walking around Central before sunrise, but she wasn’t most people. In this military state, civilians knew better than to threaten or attempt to harm a soldier, no matter what gender they were. She always knew how to conduct herself and keep herself safe. That duty was hers, and hers alone.

She walked into the office and noticed that Roy was reading a newspaper, quietly facing the window. He didn’t care for his team to announce their arrival when he read the paper: it was his time to strategize about the day. She noted that he was the only one there.

She approached her own desk and noticed a box in the center, with no note attached.

 _There’s no way anyone knows what today is_ , she said to herself in disbelief as she sat down. As she lifted the lid off the box, she knew.

“Good morning, Lieutenant,” said Roy pleasantly, turning his chair in her direction and lowering the newspaper to meet her gaze.

She nodded. “Good morning, Colonel.”

He made no further effort to continue engaging with her, turning his chair back around and continuing to peruse the newspaper.

She fought hard to keep the overwhelming wave of emotions from appearing on her face as she looked down and saw a chocolate cake with a dahlia on top.

—

Roy made it a point to acknowledge her birthday every year that he lived under Master Hawkeye’s strict household. She remembered waking up every morning of her birthday to a box of small chocolate cake on the kitchen table, with a single dahlia placed on top of the frosting—her favorite flower. Her father was not an endearing man and did not believe in coddling people for their mere existence, so she knew it had to be from Roy.

She didn’t know how he knew. Her birthday was so insignificant, and the only time she celebrated was when her mother was still around. Her father had descended so far into madness, both from her mother’s death and from his alchemy research, that it was unreasonable to expect any type of warmth from him. For years, she carried on without thinking of the day at all. She never forgot it, but she didn’t let anyone else know, because she saw no value in mentioning it. And somehow he still found out, and still did something for her.

Every year on that same day she would walk into the kitchen before sunrise to fix breakfast and see the box of cake on the kitchen table, but she’d also hear his unmistakable snoring to confirm that he was indeed asleep. He was always busy studying, and she always woke up before him, but without fail, for those years that Roy Mustang lived with her and her father, he somehow woke up before her and bought her a cake, with her favorite flower to boot.

Not to say that the day was overtly celebratory. It was always simple and always followed the same routine. She would set the cake aside on the kitchen counter and make breakfast for the three of them: eggs, baked beans, and bread. Berthold would walk in, and father and daughter would eat together in complete silence. He had a sharp eye and she wasn’t sure how or why he never mentioned the box of cake on the counter, but he didn’t, and once he finished eating he would leave the dishes on the table. _Tell him to come when he’s done with breakfast_ , her father would tell her as he disappeared into his large study. _Yes,_ she’d respond simply, and she’d wash their dishes.

Roy would come into the kitchen and scarf his breakfast down. Without fail, on every birthday morning, he’d nearly choke on his bread. But otherwise, they too coexisted in silence in that kitchen. Knowing that he would be busy when she arrived home from school, she would quietly open the box and cut two slices, one for each of them. Then she would walk over, place one slice at her seat, and place another slice at his seat. They would eat together, still quietly, until he finished his slice far earlier than her. The first year, he brazenly sat right next to her and took a bite from her piece too. She poked the top of his right hand, not strong enough to draw blood but uncomfortable enough to tell him: _Go get yourself another slice if you want. This one’s mine._ She noticed that he never did that again.

When he left, she knew she wouldn’t see another birthday cake again. She didn’t get any from her father, and when she reunited with Roy in Ishval, the days all blended together, so neither of them could keep track of anything in the desert. Then, when they returned to Eastern Headquarters after the war ended, he casually mentioned it, back when she was the only member on his team. All he said was, “Happy birthday, Hawkeye.” She knew he meant well, but it reminded her too much about all the lives she had taken as the Hawk’s Eye.

She politely but firmly asked that he never mention her birthday ever again. She didn’t divulge her feelings often, so she knew that he wouldn’t press her any further. So far, he had taken that to heart and never said a word about it to her, and in fact he didn’t mention it to anyone else, either. Her birthday was just another day—to herself, to him, and to everyone else around them.

—

“Everything ok, Lieutenant?” asked Master Sergeant Kain Fuery as he walked into the office. He was like a younger brother to Riza: sweet, innocent, and still yet to be hardened by combat. His eyes were full of compassion and curiosity. Someone like him deserved a birthday celebration—not a murderer like her.

She smiled at him. “Yes, Fuery. Thanks for asking. Good morning.”

Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc laughed as he walked in behind Fuery. “Did you go on a date? I guess it must have gone well if someone’s sending you stuff.”

Riza shook her head and scoffed as she shut the lid onto the cake box. _Of course he’d ask that. All he thinks about is women._ On Havoc’s birthday he would go to a bar, drink a little too much, woo a pretty woman with tales of being in the military, and shuffle into the office a little late the next morning. Any other commanding officer would reprimand him, so externally it seemed that Roy gave him a pass on his womanizing, but in reality she knew Roy sympathized with Havoc’s craving for human connection. It was something they all wanted.

Before she could respond, Roy interjected. “I hardly think the Lieutenant has the time or energy to date, given all that our unit is working on,” he stated flatly, not even dignifying their banter with his gaze as he continued to read the paper.

Second Lieutenant Heymans Breda gave him a shifty-eyed look as he sat at his desk, having just arrived as well. “A little weird for you to be saying that, boss, seeing as you’re always flirting around and going to Christmas’ bar.”

“Do all of you always walk in at the exact same damn time?” he snipped. She saw Roy shift in his seat uncomfortably and turn the page in the paper, indicating he no longer wished to participate in the conversation.

Riza laughed to herself. “Sir, you have a meeting with—“

“Yes, Fullmetal.” He turned his chair back around to face the team, placed the paper down on the desk, and stood up. “Lieutenant Hawkeye, I know he’s going to give me a headache. So in anticipation, I’d like some fresh air. Come join me.”

He began to walk towards the door, and Riza faithfully followed right behind him with no argument. They almost bumped right into Warrant Officer Vato Falman, who walked into the office muttering deeply formal apologies.

“Sirs, I am truly sorry for almost walking right into you. I know I must be more cautious,” Falman said to them, flustered.

Roy laughed as he walked into the hallway. “At ease, Falman. Lieutenant Hawkeye and I are going on a quick walk before we start the day.”

They continued their pace without waiting for a response from him and walked in silence until they reached the corner to turn right.

“I know it’s just another day, Lieutenant, but I figured you might enjoy a cake,” Roy said, in such a hushed whisper that even Riza could hardly hear it. “You know, just because.”

It was in that moment that she remembered precisely what she said to him the very first year after the war, when he tried to greet her: _“_ Please don’t mention my birthday ever again. From now on, I want it to be just another day. _”_

It was just another day, but it wasn’t just any day.

It was the day she received chocolate cake with a dahlia on top, right at her desk.

**Author's Note:**

> One of my very good friends is named Dahlia, and I’ve been thinking of her a lot recently, so I thought I’d pepper that into this piece.
> 
> As I begin to write more, I prefer to write these smaller pieces that delve more into character development, rather than action scenes or long, involved stories. The fight scenes in FMA are fantastic, and the interconnectedness of the entire plot is equally great, but Arakawa is much better at that than I could ever hope to be, and that type of writing isn’t enjoyable to me. Instead, I find great joy in creating these pieces that examine deeper (albeit imagined) details of characters’ personalities. I especially find that writing about RoyAi is a great way to challenge myself in describing and showing. Even in the canon scenes where they are by themselves, they don’t tend to engage in unnecessarily lengthy conversation. Canon-compliant writing is important to me, so I choose to instead let their actions speak for themselves. 
> 
> On a final note, I find it immensely difficult to write from Riza’s perspective. I don’t envision her to usually be a deeply sentimental person, but she’s also not as hard as people assume from the get-go. Striking the right balance is such a challenge, and I find that so few writers have been able to nail that precision. Hopefully this is a decent attempt, but even if you don’t think so, I look forward to feedback on how I might be able to do that!


End file.
